


Under Your Skin

by eleanor_lavish



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Docking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-02-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:39:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve likes to try new things.  Tony isn't good at saying no.  XTube is a <s>terrible</s> fabulous invention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> So, Miss Devildoll decided it would be great to think about what would happen when (not if) Steve Rogers discovered XTube. It would be hot, she reasoned (rightly!) and Steve would, red-faced, email videos to Tony of things he'd like to try. (Her post is [here](http://devildoll.livejournal.com/830067.html).)
> 
>  
> 
> _Then Tony offhandedly mentions--in the context of a conversation about something else completely--that Jarvis reads all their emails and Steve wants to die of embarrassment that Tony's robot butler knows how kinky he is (Steve thinks facials are really kinky) (and Tony says, testily, for the hundredth time, "HE'S NEITHER A ROBOT NOR A BUTLER") and Steve immediately vows to never email Tony another link again, ever, not even to that video of baby Charlie biting his brother's finger. Which lasts three whole days, because that's how long it takes for him to discover this thing called "docking"...._
> 
>  
> 
> So, right. Then this happened.

When it comes to kinky sex, there are two kinds - the kind that Tony would much rather willingly have with total strangers, and the kind that is way too intimate for total strangers. For obvious reasons, Tony's had a lot of the former, and almost none of the latter.

Tony Stark has been tied up, tied down, whipped, strangled, covered in latex paint, had his cock jerked off by someone with very dexterous feet and, one memorable time, had sex in a pool full of live eels. Within three months of starting... whatever the hell he's doing with Steve (Tony will not call it a relationship, he _will not_ ), Steve has managed to find one of the few kinky things Tony has _not_ done, because it's too _close_ , it's too much like wearing someone else's skin, in the metaphorical way as much as the physical. 

Steve is hung and he's uncut, like most guys born in the 1920's, which, _jesus_ , Tony has to stop thinking about, and when he kneels on the bed in front of Tony (because he said yes, _of course_ he said yes, because Steve is his god damned Achilles' heel of sex - he takes things that are supposed to be _fun_ and makes them _agonizingly hot and fraught with emotion_ , but Tony can't ever say no), Tony's heart thuds so loudly in his ears he wonders for a second if there is something wrong with the arc reactor. "Tony?" Steve says, his voice a little unsure, like it often is in the dim light of Tony's bedroom, like he trusts Tony to tell him it's all going to be okay. 

Like fucking hell it is.

"Yeah, okay," Tony manages, shaking his head and reaching out to stroke Steve's cock. He's already hard, but Tony needs a few moments to clear his rattling thoughts, and the sight of Steve's bare throat as he tips his head back with a hiss is a nice side bonus. "Come closer, come on," Tony says, almost impatient, but Steve just shuffles forward until they almost bump noses, until Tony can wrap one callused hand around them both and give a firm tug. 

"Oh," Steve says, which is Steve-speak for _'fuck, yeah, shit, do that again'_ , and Tony grins in spite of himself. He pulls back enough to let the head of his cock slide against Steve's, both of them just slick enough for the sensation to be more of a tingle than a shock. 

"You wanna drive?" Tony asks, and before Steve can say no, he gently pulls one of Steve's hands between them and rubs his knuckles over the full length of both of them before Steve gets the hint and wraps his big hand around his dick. “Just. Hold still,” Tony grits out, because this is the part that takes a little finesse (and yes, Tony’s researched this, because Tony feels kind of obligated not to fuck up any of Steve’s sexual experiences, and what the hell, the videos were all pretty hot), but he manages to push-pull enough to get the head of his dick just under Steve’s foreskin and lets Steve push against him and. 

Oh, god. There are _reasons_ Tony doesn’t do this kind of thing, there are _reasons_ , he thinks as Steve slowly, agonizingly pushes the skin forward, up, over Tony. It’s hot and wet and smooth and tight and Steve’s hand is still moving and Tony can’t do this, he _can’t_ , he’s fifteen seconds away from coming already. Steve’s thumb pushes a little, a gentle pressure on the crown of Tony’s cock, and his shivers.

"Is that too- " Steve starts.

"I'll take as much as you give me," Tony pants, and fuck, his subconscious needs to shut up already.

“Tony,” Steve breathes, and suddenly his free hand is wrapping around the back of Tony’s neck and they’re kissing, tongues sliding against each other in a strange mimic of their dicks in Steve’s hand. Tony whites out everything that isn’t the feeling of Steve’s hand on his neck, of Steve’s lush lip between his teeth, of Steve’s hand jerking them both off with not quite enough pressure. Tony whines, the noise ripping from his traitorous throat, and Steve pulls back to gasp. “Oh my God, Tony,” he says, and he presses his forehead to Tony’s temple.

Tony makes the tactical error of looking down.

It’s like they’re one person, Tony’s olive skin blending neatly into Steve’s golden tan. Tony’s still holding his dick at the base, the grip tight enough that he’s hoping he can keep from embarrassing himself. He can feel how close Steve is to the edge, the sudden bursts of hot wetness against his oversensitive dick, the way his cock jumps when Tony rubs the short stubble of his beard over Steve’s neck. It’s too close and too much and pretty much exactly what Tony’s been trying to avoid, but he can already read Steve like a book - in the field, in the briefing room - why should this be any different? Why shouldn’t they be one entity here as well, able to be one step ahead, to reach out and catch the other when they’re in danger of falling? “Tony,” Steve whispers in his ear, his voice reed thin, “say something. Please.”

“I love you.” Tony’s voice sounds foreign to his own ears, deep and rich and desperate, and Steve groans low and comes with a full body shudder, his face buried in Tony’s neck. And Tony can _feel it_ , more than any other time he’s made Steve come, near him or on him or inside him. It’s like Steve’s cock is Tony’s cock, like their orgasms are basically one in the same until they _are_ , until Tony’s coming hard, his free hand wrapped around Steve’s forearm to keep them docked, to keep them one.

When Tony finally stops shaking, Steve is pulling his hand away. The air in the room is cold enough on his sensitive dick to make Tony hiss, and the mess between them is pretty epic. And Steve isn’t looking at him.

“Did you mean it?” Steve asks, staring down at his hand, the hand that made them one person for a moment there, now sticky with both of them.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” he bites out, his cheeks crimson. Steve’s jaw clenches and Tony’s heart does that terrible thudding thing. “I’m not saying it again,” he manages, and Steve glances up at him with a small smile. Tony reads relief in his eyes, and something else. Happiness. Tony is struck by a now-normal terror that he is going to let Steve down someday, that he’s not going to be enough, that Steve will find someone worthy of all this fucking _trust_ and leave him alone with the awful memory that the hole in his chest (metaphorical, this time) once had a piece that fit it perfectly. 

Today is not that day, thank god. “Once is enough,” Steve says, and pulls Tony in for a long, thorough kiss.


End file.
